


don't you (forget about me)

by undying_young



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: M/M, reddie if you squint - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 13:50:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14214513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undying_young/pseuds/undying_young
Summary: In which Richie gets lost in the sewers instead of Stan.





	don't you (forget about me)

**Author's Note:**

> beta read by TheSubtextMachine

Richie never had a problem with the dark, really. Dark meant nighttime, nighttime meant sneaking off to his room to be alone and everyone being too drunk to notice his absence. In a sense, the dark felt warm to him. It was sure. It was this huge, soft comforter to cover you when you were tired. No one can see you as you release your true emotions, and fears, and doubts. You get to be vulnerable; there’s no force involved.  
  
Richie’s opinions about the dark were rapidly changing.  
  
He’d walked five steps away from the group–why he would walk away from his friends while hunting a demon clown in the sewers of Derry, he already couldn’t remember–then turned around, and his friends had disappeared into the motherfucking darkness. His friends disappeared into the darkness while they were all trapped in a fucking sewer with a demon clown who wanted to fucking murder them–where the fuck did those fuckers go? Why would they leave?  
  
_They wouldn’t leave you._  
  
They wouldn’t leave him.  
  
_Wouldn’t they?_  
  
He was too loud sometimes. He knew he was too loud sometimes, but fuck, how could he help that? How could that be enough to leave him now? It couldn’t have been. Unless it was. Maybe they figured they could put those MISSING posters to good use.  
  
Now it was pitch-black, and this darkness felt like he was just waiting on death.  
  
Until the light.  
  
Suddenly, there they all were, lights centered on each of his friends like they were on some sort of stage. Bev, Ben, and Bill were to the left, then Mike and Stan to his right; all facing away--and in the middle of them stood Eddie, facing him. It was an odd formation, and for a moment, Richie waited, figuring he would surely get an explanation. When he didn’t get anything, his frown deepened.  
  
“Stan? Bill?”  
  
Nothing. Just Eddie staring at him as he went down the line, trying to get everyone else’s attention. No such luck.  
  
Richie stood back, and crossed his arms. “Guys? Eddie, what the fuck are they doing? We gotta get outta here, and they’re really standing around with their dicks in their hands; are you shitting me?”  
  
Still, no one moved. No one told him to shut up. No one looked at him. No one but Eddie, who took a small step forward, eyes piercing into Richie’s.  
  
“Fuck off, Richard.”  
  
That kind of stung, but Richie scoffed, stepping forward too. “Not really the fuckin’ time, Eds. We gotta get outta here–what’s going on with them?”  
  
And even though Richie called the Kaspbrak boy by the nickname he’d given him, something was off. Eddie’s big brown eyes were now dull, like a gray-ish mud. Lifeless. Like a zombie, kind of. It gave him the creeps. Maybe it was the lighting? Richie didn’t know, but he tried to let it go for the sake of trying to escape death.  
  
Eddie’s muddy eyes glared at him, a harder glare than Richie knew the shorter boy could even muster. “I hate you.”  
  
Richie blinked. Usually he’d brush it off, even try to crack a joke, even in a place as fucked up as a sewer system that happened to be the lair of the creature that wanted them dead. But the way Eddie was looking at him… It was a look full of genuine hatred. Richie had never been on the receiving end of a look like that from Eddie, and the way the other Losers didn’t flinch, didn’t turn around, didn’t make a single sound of protest…  
  
“What?” he breathed out.  
  
“I said I fucking hate you, Richard. You’re too loud and you’re too dirty and you want people to remember you, but they won’t.”  
  
“Fuck you, Eddie!”  
  
“You are the most forgettable person in this town by a mile, and I know you’re queer for me, too, Tozier–you think I didn’t know?”  
  
Richie felt all the blood drain from his face. “I… Eds, it’s not–I… look, I-I know I like girls, too, I just–”  
  
“I’d never go for a fag like you, so fucking forget it, alright? I’m never talking to you again.”  
  
As if to make a point, Eddie turned around with the others. Richie’s face burned, and his mouth began moving before he knew it.  
  
“Yeah, fuck me for something that I can’t control, right?”  
  
Nothing.  
  
“Eddie, just fucking listen to me! Don’t do this, especially not here, goddamnit!”  
  
Nothing again. Richie marched over to Stan, and pushed the other boy’s shoulder.  
  
“Stan? Stan, c'mon, what did I do? What did I do that was so fucking horrible, huh?”  
  
More silence.  
  
“Stan!”  
  
If Richie weren’t mistaken, Stan hadn’t so much as taken a breath in.  
  
“Bill?” he asked aloud. His voice seemed to echo. “Ben? Guys, please, you-you can’t just fucking let me…” he trailed off, trying to find the right words. “Please, I-I can’t just go and do this by myself, you guys know that!”  
  
Losing hope, he turned to Beverly. “What happened to sticking together, huh?”  
  
No one turned. They hadn't moved an inch, as if he hadn't said a thing to them at all. He didn't exist anymore, not to them, not to anyone. No one could hear him. No one could see him. He wasn't there. He was nothing.

 

 _You are nothing_ , a tiny voice told him. _You are gone_.

 

“No,” he murmured, and balled his hands into fists, trying to find his voice, “no, you're lying!”

 

Richie screamed. He screamed out every obscenity he knew, he pushed them, he cried, he jumped around until his face was turning blue, but no one faced him. No one responded. It was as if he wasn’t even there.  
  
Then they began to walk away, and Richie lurched forward, grabbing Mike’s arm.

 

“Mike, come on! Mike, please; you’re the nicest fucking person I know, _please_ !”  
  
But Mike kept walking, and for a moment Richie let himself be dragged along, until he lost his grip, and fell. His thick-rimmed glasses slipped from his face, and Richie winced when he heard the crunch of glass underfoot. When he scrambled back to his feet, everyone had gone.  
  
Richie was alone. Not the alone he felt when he was trapped at home; now, he was truly, completely alone. He’d die in a sewer, and his friends were probably printing off more copies of his MISSING flyers. It was over.  
  
The boy sank to his knees, and curled into himself, waiting for whatever was coming.  
  
“Richie?”

“Richie!”

 

“Dude, where are you?”

  
The boy opened his eyes. His glasses were intact in front of him, a faint light glinting off of them. He reached out and gently grabbed them, sliding them back onto his face.  
  
“My glasses…”  
  
“Richie!” Stan shouted, “Shit, man, you scared us!”  
  
Richie looked up. There he was, back in the sewers, his friends bunched in front of him, Bill’s flashlight shining down on his face. Tears welled up in his eyes again. They’d left him. They’d ignored him. They hated him, and now they were just standing there, looking at him as if they were the ones who were confused.  
  
Stan rushed forward. “Holy shit; Richie, are you okay?”  
  
“Fuck you!” Richie shouted. “Stay away from me!”  
  
Everyone looked confused, and exchanged looks with each other, now deciding to approach him slowly.  
  
Stan held his hands up in defense. “Richie, what the hell–”  
  
“Fuck you; fuck all of you!” Richie turned to the shortest of them all. “I-I know I’m a Trashmouth queer, but I’d rather be Trashmouth queer than be a piece of fucking shit, Eddie!”  
  
Eddie frowned, and Bill tried to place his hands on Richie’s shoulders. “Richie, cuh-calm down–”  
  
The taller boy violently jerked back. “Fuck off, Denbrough! You’re not allowed to judge me! You’re not allowed to leave me whenever you want!”  
  
Mike spoke up, reaching out to rub Richie’s back. “Richie, no one’s judged you. You left us.”  
  
Again, Richie pulled back. “You all judged me! You all ignored me! And y-you’re not fucking allowed to ignore me like that! You’re not allowed to forget!”  
  
Now it was Eddie’s turn. Eddie approached Richie briskly, and knelt in front of him, taking Richie’s face in his hands. Richie looked like hell; eyes wide, heart broken. Eddie could feel the little shards stabbing at his chest.  
  
“Richie, we love you, okay? I love you.” Eddie wiped the tears from Richie’s face, and raised his chin so Richie was looking at him. “Yeah? You hear me? I love you. We’re here now. It was all in your head.”  
  
Richie swallowed, sniffling a bit. “But-but you forgot me, Eds; you all forgot me. And you-you’re not allowed to forget me, and you did.”  
  
“We never forgot you, Rich; you know we wouldn’t. We’re here for you right now. We see you. Just focus on me, alright?”  
  
Richie searched Eddie’s eyes, Eddie’s real eyes. They were big, and warm, and brown, like they always were. Tears refused to stop falling, and Richie pushed his glasses up over his head as he wiped his eyes. Eddie pushed the other boy’s glasses up on his nose when they slipped, and smoothed Richie’s hair down. Richie’s breathing slowed, and after a moment, he let the smaller boy envelop him in a hug. Everyone gathered around them, creating a tangle of hugs and murmurings of reassurance.  
  
“You’re not allowed to forget me,” he repeated gently, and Eddie nodded.  
  
“Couldn’t if I tried, Tozier. I promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> i love to suffer


End file.
